


There's Always One More Sheep Around the Corner, or A Week in Cumbria

by coffeejunkii



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-01
Updated: 2010-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-05 14:43:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeejunkii/pseuds/coffeejunkii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Oddly enough, war-worn Harry finds solace among green hills, deep clear lakes and a herd of woolly, sweet, but very stupid sheep. He is also the keeper of a very lovely and secluded B&B (wizard or muggle optional. could be both). Workaholic-from-trying-to-forget-Harry and with a secret fetish for women's lingerie!Draco is sent there by interfering!Hermione to "rest his poor misguided nerves". Stir, season with pepper and a lot of dreadful weather.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_ **There's Always One More Sheep Around the Corner, or A Week in Cumbria** _

Originally posted as my contribution to the 2007 Secrets and Wishes Fest on Livejournal.

 

Written for [](http://grunhilda.livejournal.com/profile)[**grunhilda**](http://grunhilda.livejournal.com/)'s request: _Oddly enough, war-worn Harry finds solace among green hills, deep clear lakes and a herd of woolly, sweet, but very stupid sheep. he is also the keeper of a very lovely and secluded B&amp;B (wizard or muggle optional. could be both). workaholic-from-trying-to-forget-Harry and with a secret fetish for women's lingerie!Draco is sent there by interfering!Hermione to "rest his poor misguided nerves". stir, season with pepper and a lot of dreadful weather. Draco has no idea that it's Harry's inn of course. Harry isn't hiding from the Wizarding world, and makes public appearances at grand ministry parties and the like. there should be lots of rainy windows (rain snogging? me loves a good rainsnog), bad cooking (of Harry's) as the chef takes a week off, and knicker lace (on Draco). I want a humorous fic, but not to the point that it's (too) silly. pet names are a squick of mine. no BDSM, but NC-17 wouldn't hurt ;) _

Thank you so much to my wonderful betas and Britpickers, [](http://lusiology.livejournal.com/profile)[**lusiology**](http://lusiology.livejournal.com/), [](http://rurounihime.livejournal.com/profile)[**rurounihime**](http://rurounihime.livejournal.com/) and [](http://snottygrrl.livejournal.com/profile)[**snottygrrl**](http://snottygrrl.livejournal.com/). Also thanks to [](http://best-of-five.livejournal.com/profile)[**best_of_five**](http://best-of-five.livejournal.com/) for patiently listening to me rambling on about sheep farming in Cumbria, and to [](http://akahannah.livejournal.com/profile)[**akahannah**](http://akahannah.livejournal.com/) for her insights into many sheep-related things.

~*~*~

 

"You can't be serious." Draco stared at the parchment in front of him.

Hermione crossed her arms and leaned against the edge of Draco's desk. "Oh yes, I am."

"Enforced medical leave? For an _entire_ week?" Draco felt lightheaded.

"Yes. This has been going on for far too long." Hermione started pacing. "When was the last time you took a day off? You even spend most of your weekends here!"

Draco drew a breath to protest, but Hermione cut him off.

"And don't you try to deny it. You send me owls at least twice a day when I'm not here. Ron's starting to think that you're after me, you know."

"Oh please, that's absolutely—" Draco started.

Hermione gave him a challenging look.

"Not that you aren't—but—you know what I mean!" Draco smoothed down his robes.

"I do indeed." With both hands flat on Draco's desk, she leaned in a little too close for his comfort. "The point is that you're working yourself to the bone because you can't forget how your One Big Chance with Harry went nowhere."

Draco shot her a scathing look.

Hermione sighed. "Look, I'm sorry about that. But it's been nearly two years, and you're of much more use to the department when you aren't hovering on the edge of a nervous breakdown every other day."

"And what am I supposed to do the entire week? Stare at the walls of my flat?"

"Actually..." Hermione opened a drawer on her desk and pulled out a small stuffed sheep. "I've taken the liberty to arrange something for you."

Draco took the offered sheep. "Portkey?" he asked cautiously.

"Yes. For The Fat Lamb in Ravenstonedale. That's a B&amp;B in Cumbria. It's beautiful there." A dreamy expression settled on her face.

Draco couldn't help but think that Hermione harbored a secret fantasy brought on by too many Muggle films. "I hate the countryside."

"Well, you have one week to change your mind. The Portkey is set for three o'clock tomorrow afternoon."

"Tomorrow? But the--"

"Yes, the Carmichael presentation is tomorrow, but I think I can handle that by myself. All your other appointments for the week have also been rescheduled. And Flinky knows you'll be going away, so she's probably packing up a few things for you as we speak." The self-satisfied smirk on Hermione's face was particularly irritating because they both knew she was right.

"Fine. You win. But I might need another week in Paris after this to undo the damage of country life, just so you know."

"That would be perfectly acceptable," she replied happily. "But who knows, you might find exactly what you're looking for."

"Pardon?"

"Oh, nothing." Hermione sat back down in her chair and flipped open the file she'd been working on, a mysterious smile playing around her lips.

~*~*~

It was worse than Draco had expected.

When Hermione had said Cumbria, he'd hoped for a few barren hills and an overall desolate landscape, both of which would have perfectly suited his mood. But no, the Portkey had placed him behind a small train station that was surrounded by the most revoltingly picturesque place Draco had ever visited.

[A narrow road](http://i8.photobucket.com/albums/a11/mesk2/various/sheep/ravenstonedaleroad.jpg)—obviously the only one in the small village—wound its way in-between weathered stone houses that allowed glimpses of lush fields and hills further on. Even though spring was further advanced in London, it had already made an appearance here as well, leaving behind bunches of small flowers and budding leaves everywhere.

Draco was in the midst of contemplating whether his upset stomach was a result of bumpy Portkey travel or the sickening cheerfulness all around when a female voiced called out his name.

Turning around, he saw a woman who had far more resemblance to Molly Weasley than should ever be allowed approaching him.

"Mr Malfoy?" she asked again.

Draco nodded.

With a wide smile, the woman said, "Pleased to meet you. I'm Margaret, the manager of The Fat Lamb. My apologies for having the Portkey drop you off here, but during Muggle week, we can't risk people suddenly falling out of the sky, can we?"

Draco's eyes narrowed. "Muggle week?"

"Why yes, didn't Ms Granger mention that to you? We have both Muggle and Wizarding guests."

"I'm afraid it slipped her mind," he bit out.

"Ah well, I promise your stay will be just as comfortable as it would be during Wizarding week. In fact, many of the witches and wizards who come to stay with us rather enjoy doing things the Muggle way for a week. Although this week you'll be the only non-Muggle staying with us. Shall we?"

With a terse nod, Draco followed Margaret to the Muggle automobile parked on the side of the road. They discreetly unshrank his bags and stowed them in the backseat before taking off.

The short drive only confirmed Draco's first impression. [Gently rolling hills](http://www.yorkshirewalks.org/diary/fatlamb/4920a.JPG) with hedges and stonewalls interrupted by the occasional cluster of trees flew past. There were [sheep everywhere](http://i8.photobucket.com/albums/a11/mesk2/various/sheep/ravenstonedalesheep.jpg). Tuning out Margaret's inane chatter, Draco began to mentally compose a spectacular howler to Hermione.

~*~*~

Much to Draco's surprise, The Fat Lamb turned out to be a stately two-storey house with a pleasant, if slightly unkempt, garden. Of course the inside might very well be an explosion of whimsical clutter, he told himself as he waited for Margaret to unlock the front door.

Bracing himself for the worst, Draco stepped into the entrance hall. Aside from the tiny roses on the wallpaper and the not-so-subtle sheep figurines on various little tables, the décor leaned towards the simple and unassuming.

"Welcome to The Fat Lamb," Margaret boasted. "Now, to give you a quick orientation. All guest rooms are down the hall to your right. The lounge, dining room, library, kitchen, and my office are to your left. Feel free to visit the kitchen at any time. There are usually biscuits and tea set out, although our trusty cook, Martin, has come down with the flu, I'm afraid, so we're trying to manage without him. The first floor is private. Any questions so far, Mr Malfoy?"

"None whatsoever." Draco was anxious to see his room.

"Excellent. What else? You've already noticed the garden, I'm sure, and there's quite a bit of land that stretches behind the house..."

"Perhaps you could show me to my room."

"Oh yes, of course. It's just down here. Ms Granger insisted on this one. The Rose Room's usually the most popular, but she was quite firm."

Margaret opened the door to a room that appeared nearly stark in contrast to all the cheerfulness Draco had encountered so far. White-washed walls, dark wooden furniture, and a few Muggle photographs of the seemingly inescapable sheep were more than acceptable. Perhaps the howler to Hermione wasn't necessary. Yet.

"It's very nice," Draco said approvingly.

The compliment earned him another one of Margaret's wide smiles. "I'm so relieved to hear that. It's not exactly what most people expect of a B&amp;B around here, you know?"

Trying not to let any sarcasm show in his voice, Draco answered, "I can imagine."

"Well, I shall leave you to unpack. Please do let me know if you need anything."

"Of course. Thank you."

As soon as he had closed the door behind Margaret, Draco flopped down on the admittedly very comfortable bed. A glance out the window revealed rain clouds rolling in over hills.

The day was definitely looking up.

~*~*~

"Baaah!"

Draco slowly blinked open his eyes. What a bizarre dream—the sheep had sounded so real, almost as if...

"Baah!"

No dream, then.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Draco mumbled. He didn't even bother sitting up, but merely reached for his wand.

Before he could finish the first swish for the desperately needed Silencing Charm, a piece of paper popped into the air a scant few inches from his face. It read, _Dear Mr Malfoy, the use of wands and other magical items is prohibited this week. We apologise for any inconvenience. Sincerely, The Fat Lamb Staff_.

"Baah!"

As Draco stumbled out of bed, he decided that the Howler to Hermione was firmly back on the agenda. He tore open the curtains and looked down on a [fat sheep](http://i8.photobucket.com/albums/a11/mesk2/various/sheep/sheep2.jpg) that stood right beneath his window.

"Go away!" He instructed through the glass.

The sheep merely stared inquisitively, but didn't move.

"Stupid sodding no-good..." Draco muttered as he opened the window. A waft of cold air carrying a distinct note of wet wool hit his sensitive nose. "You're not only fat, you also stink. Shush now, run along—"

"Baaaaahhh!"

"I see. Don't say I didn't try to be nice first." Draco leaned out of the window and poked the sheep with his wand. "Come on now, I'm sure the Muggles would be much happier with a bleating nuisance like you."

He poked the sheep again, and with one final "Bah!" it trotted off towards the other end of the house.

"Oh, thank Merlin."

Considering it was only eight o'clock, Draco climbed back into bed. The sheep incident seemed to have left an impact on his unconscious, however, as he tossed and turned for two hours between vivid dreams featuring gigantic knots of yarn trying to crush him. At least the heat had come on when Draco got up for the second time that morning.

Just like any other day, the first thing he did was examine the contents of his underwear drawer to decide which of his multiple options best corresponded to his mood. He'd taken his time to unpack last night and was pleased to see the neat stacks of cotton and silk. The sensible briefs in black and white didn't capture his interest; rather, his eyes settled on deep green knickers with scalloped edges that sported just a hint of lace. Perfect.

There had been a time when he used to think that he liked lacy knickers because he liked women in them, but the first time he had a woman undress before him, wearing lingerie he bought for her, he realised that yes, he actually liked the knickers, but not the woman wearing them, and from then on, all lingerie purchases had been strictly for himself. Including this green pair that perfectly brought out the curves of his arse.

Freshly showered and dressed, Draco made his way down the hall in pursuit of breakfast. He was unprepared for the small group of middle-aged Muggles milling in the entrance hall.

"Good morning, Mr Malfoy!" Margaret called out. "We were just about to head out on a tour of the ruins next to St Oswald's, but if you'd like to join us, I'm sure we could all find something to pass the time while you have a bite to eat." A barely-restrained ball of cheer, she almost rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet.

Much nodding followed from the group, which fixed its attention on Draco-the-new-arrival.

Forcing a tight smile on his face, Draco replied in his most polite tone. "I appreciate the generous offer, Margaret, but I'm afraid I've already made some plans for the day."

A blatant lie, but that was neither here nor there as far as Draco was concerned.

"Oh, you must have acquainted yourself with some of the literature about the area, then! Ms Granger mentioned you had an interest in history. But not much of a walker, she said! The coast-to-coast walk is usually very popular with our guests, you see."

A round of assenting murmurs rose from the group.

Draco's left eye twitched, but he maintained his smile. "Yes, I see indeed, but I really don't want to take up more of your time especially when you have such an....exciting day ahead of you. You will be gone the entire afternoon as well, I assume?"

"That's quite right," Margaret affirmed, herding her group out through the front door. "But no worries, your lunch is most secure. Or at least it will be as soon as I finish this call."

Draco watched her tapping her mobile a few times, then raising it to her ear. "Hello, dear, ever so sorry to interrupt—I know, but I'm calling about—Yes, I realise, but listen now, you need to nip down to the supermarket—" She turned to wave at him before pulling the door shut behind her.

Alone at last, Draco thought.

~*~*~

Breakfast was a sad affair: the toast was soggy, the eggs too runny, the jam not fresh enough and the tea most definitely overbrewed. Or in other words exactly what one would expect of an establishment devoid of house-elves.

The library was another disappointment. It only offered numerous volumes extolling the beauty of Cumbria and multiple copies of every single book written by some woman called Jane Austen. As Draco was the self-reliant sort, he wouldn't suffer from a lack of reading materials, however.

He had just settled into a comfortable chair in the lounge with the latest novel in the _Wizards in Love_ series when he caught movement in the open door to the hallway out of the corner of his eyes. A brief flash one associates with light bouncing of a glass surface, framed by something darker. Wire-rimmed spectacles and black hair, Draco's treacherous mind supplied, which was ridiculous, of course. Maybe Hermione was right and he really did need some time off.

With a sigh, he turned back to his book. He made good progress until he came across the scene in which the doomed lovers made promises of eternal love to one another. With a sniffle-turned-sneer, he tossed the book aside, reminding himself that he consumed these novels because they provided ample opportunities for mocking and derision of contrived plots.

Hadn't Margaret mentioned tea and biscuits waiting in the kitchen?

Standing up to test the veracity of that statement, Draco found himself drawn to the large windows overlooking the garden. It was raining again, a soft patter that bounced off leaves before being swallowed up by grass and puddles. Draco leaned close to the glass to track the walkway that ambled between flowerbeds. Condensation formed under his chin, and he couldn't resist lifting his finger to draw random patterns on the misty surface.

The last time he'd seen Harry was at that Ministry ball celebrating the first anniversary of Voldemort's defeat. For once, Draco had enjoyed himself at one of those events. Or more precisely, he and Harry had shared their dislike for them, mocking every self-important Ministry ponce who happened to walk into their line of sight. But then the evening had ended in an awkward hug and not-quite-kiss that he still couldn't make sense of. Couldn't decide if it was only the final point of the evening, or perhaps the invitation for something more; an invitation that neither of them had followed up on. Or was he simply making something out of nothing, still pondering an encounter that Harry had most likely already forgotten about?

With a frustrated groan, Draco allowed his forehead to drop against the window pane. Time to let this go, he sternly told himself. Tea and biscuits were much more deserving of his attention.

He'd just set one foot into the hall when he heard the front door slam. If this was Margaret's little group returning early, he wanted to know right away so he could beat a quick retreat to his room. Turning the corner into the entrance hall, he faced the person he least expected: a rain-soaked Harry Potter, one shopping bag in each hand.

Green eyes widened with surprise. "Draco, what..."

"Potter." Draco complimented himself on sounding as if he had been expecting no one else, and not as if his heart was hammering in his chest.

"I think we dropped the whole last-name-business a while ago, wouldn't you say?" He had the audacity to look amused.

"If you say so," Draco replied hesitantly.

Setting down the bags and shrugging out of his jacket, Harry asked, "What are you doing here? Wait. Are you the guest who needs lunch because he didn't join the excursion?"

"I am. And to state the obvious in reply to your other question, I'm here on holiday. I think the more pressing question is why you are here." Draco clasped his hands behind his back.

"Holiday, huh? Funny, Hermione didn't mention that when I talked to her last night."

Cursing Hermione's meddling tendencies, Draco scratched the idea of a Howler. This was something he'd definitely have to take up with her in person. Towering wrath was only so effective when delivered by a charmed piece of paper.

"And, um, this is my house. I thought you might know. If not from Hermione, then from Margaret." There was a hint of sadness in Harry's voice that Draco couldn't place.

"I didn't know." He wisely left out the bit about his habit of tuning people out when they launched into explanations of things Draco had no interest in. A habit he clearly needed to reconsider as vital information seemed to be slipping past him.

Harry ruffled one hand through his wet hair before taking off his glasses to rub them on a corner of his shirt. Fixing his eyes on Draco, he said, "Well, I do hope you'll enjoy your stay here."

Draco's stomach was feeling funny again, so he simply nodded, watching Harry gather up the bags and start down the hall.

"Lunch'll be in an hour," Harry called over his shoulder just before he disappeared into the kitchen.

~*~*~

Draco was very grateful that lunch was already set out when he arrived in the dining room and that it went by without another appearance by Harry. The meal was as lackluster as the previous one—the peas too mushy, the potatoes too hard, the chicken too dry—but Draco only noticed it in passing. He returned to his room right away, where he spent the next hour staring at the rain while conjuring and dismissing multiple plans for how to survive the rest of the week.

A soft knock startled him out of his thoughts, and even though he'd already suspected Harry would be on the other side of the door, his heart nevertheless did a little leap.

"Hi." Harry sounded nervous.

"Yes?"

"I was wondering if you'd maybe like to take a look around."

Draco frowned. "It's raining. In case you hadn't noticed."

"It'll stop in about ten minutes." There was renewed confidence in Harry's voice.

"Really."

"Yes."

"And what makes you so sure of that?"

Harry shrugged. "I've lived here for two years and I spend a lot of time outside. By the time you've fetched your coat and...whatever else you do to get ready, it'll be sunny out."

"Hmm. If it's not, I'm charming my coat waterproof. And there better not be any bloody notes about that!"

Harry grinned. "Done. See you at the front door in ten?"

"Or thereabouts," Draco replied loftily.

As it turned out, Harry was right about the change in weather, and the two of them set out along the path in the garden Draco had seen earlier. As they were walking, Harry talked about the history of the house, and Draco did his best to keep focused on various dates and events, but found it difficult.

When they reached a metal gate at the far end of the property, Harry turned to Draco and said proudly, "And now I'd like you to see who I spent most of my time with."

Draco squinted at the area in front of him but couldn't detect anything noteworthy. The wide pasture bordered by stone walls and the omnipresent sheep didn't exactly count.

"And that would be?" Draco asked.

"My sheep," Harry answered, striding across the field.

Draco hung back. "You've got to be joking."

Harry stopped and turned around. "I'm not. C'mon, they don't bite."

"But they smell."

Harry laughed. "You'll survive."

They had reached the ten or so sheep that were huddling together near one of the low walls.

"These are nicely fattened up, I have to say," Draco observed, wondering if there was the possibility of mutton in his near future. He unconsciously licked his lips.

Harry looked appalled. "I'm not raising them to send them off to slaughter." Squatting next to one sheep, he whispered, "Had enough of that for one lifetime."

Draco felt a twinge of guilt, but how was he supposed to know that Harry's sheep were special somehow? As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he knew that he probably should have assumed exactly that. Harry always did things a little differently, after all.

He watched Harry run his hands over the sides of the sheep in what looked like an expertly manner. "They still look rather...well-nurtured to me."

Moving on to the next sheep, Harry retorted, "I'd like to see how graceful you look when you're a few days away from giving birth."

Oh. Well, that explained that.

"Fortunately, it'll never come to that," Draco said with a suppressed shudder.

Harry winked at him. "Never say never."

Now it was Draco's turn to look utterly appalled. "Please try not to be disgusting, or I might be forced to leave a nasty note in that suggestion box I saw in the lounge."

Harry laughed. "I'll try."

One of the sheep nudged Draco's leg, which made him take a step backwards.

"Baah!"

Draco rolled his eyes. Not that again.

"You can pet her, if you'd like," Harry suggested, busying himself with yet another sheep.

"No, thanks."

"Suit yourself." Straightening up, Harry continued, "These are just the ewes, by the way. 's close to lambing, you know? So they've come down off the fell because conditions are bit too rough up there for them now. The rams and the shearlings are still there, though."

Draco blinked. "I have no idea what you just said."

"Oh. Right. Um, basically, the pregnant sheep are down here now while the others are up in the hills."

Why Harry hadn't just said that, Draco didn't know. "I see. How did you come up with the idea of all this? Raising sheep, enduring bumbling Muggles on a regular basis..."

Harry didn't answer right away, which gave Draco the chance to study him. The wind had tinged his cheeks a healthy shade of pink and turned his hair into a tangle of twisted strands. He looked content, which was very different from the Harry in Draco's memories, who was always tense and a little weary.

"I suppose it all comes back to Hermione," Harry began.

Draco was tempted to roll his eyes. "Why am I not surprised," he said, more to himself than to Harry.

"Huh?"

"Nothing. Go on."

Harry stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket, his gaze roaming over the hills in the distance. "She dragged me—well, me and Ron, really—here on holiday shortly after the war ended. And...I don't know, but being here made me feel at ease." He frowned. "Don't know why."

Draco remained silent.

"When I heard that The Fat Lamb was for sale, I jumped at it. Probably the best decision I ever made."

"Yeah?" Draco hated how quiet his voice was, but he found it hard to speak with memories flooding his mind about the time just after that ball when he'd been so caught up in deciding whether or not to owl Harry that he hadn't noticed Harry had left London. Of course he would have known about that had he listened to Hermione more carefully. But only when Harry never showed up to Thursday lunch with Hermione anymore did Draco think to inquire about his whereabouts. Hermione had thrown up her hands in frustration and said _He moved up north, remember?_. Unwilling to reveal his non-listening tendencies, Draco had only nodded.

Harry's eyes returned to him, a quizzical look in them. Draco found himself studying his muddy shoes sooner than he would have liked.

"No decision is ever completely free of regrets, don't you think?" Harry asked softly.

Draco slowly shook his head. A particularly sharp gust of wind enveloped him and Draco pulled his coat tighter around himself. "Can we go back? I'm cold."

"Yeah. Sure."

They walked across the pasture in silence. Harry opened the gate to let Draco through, and his hand lingered on Draco's back for only a moment, but it was enough to make his skin tingle.

~*~*~

Draco showed up late to dinner in the hope of eating without being forced to make idle chit-chat with the other guests. As he walked down the hall, he was pleased to note that most of the Muggles were mingling in the lounge. Except for Margaret, who was clearing the tables of empty dishes, the dining room was empty.

The evening's choice of food was a stew of sorts that Draco didn't inspect too closely. He retreated to a table near the window, looking out at the darkening sky while mechanically lifting his spoon to his mouth.

"Mind if I sit down?"

Margaret was already sitting opposite him before Draco had a chance to reply. "Not at all," he answered dryly.

"No one should eat alone during their holidays," she observed earnestly. "It's too bad you missed most of the other guests. I've already had quite a few enquiries about you. Seems like you're gaining yourself a reputation as a mysterious man with a secret or two."

"There is nothing at all mysterious about me, I assure you," Draco replied quickly, lest she might take it upon herself to probe into his life.

"Of course not, of course not." Margaret waved her hands in dismissal. "Harry mentioned he'd shown you around earlier? And he said you two already knew each other! I had no idea! It's something Ms Granger could have mentioned, isn't it?"

"Indeed." Realising that he wouldn't get away with not answering Margaret's other questions, Draco added, "Harry did show me around, yes, and—" He paused dramatically. "Harry and I fought in the war together."

Margaret's face took on a serious expression as she nodded. "Sad times."

As so often happened, mentioning the war was an efficient way of cutting down on people's curiosity, and Draco was glad to note this tactic hadn't failed in this case either.

"Good thing all of that is behind us now, and we can continue with our lives. Or start with our lives, in the case of young men like yourself and Harry. Do you have anyone special to share it with, Mr Malfoy?"

Draco nearly let his spoon clatter against the china. "No," he said tersely.

Margaret reached out to pat his arm, which almost made Draco jump out of his chair. "You've still got loads of time to find yourself a nice girl to settle down with. It's what I tell Harry all the time." She leaned across the table. "Although he'd prefer a young man, of course."

"He isn't the only one," Draco blurted out before he could stop himself.

"Oh?" A dangerous glint appeared in Margaret's eyes.

Draco had had enough. Hastily pushing away from the table, he stood up. "I'm suddenly not feeling well at all, so if you'd excuse me, I'm going back to my room. Thank you for keeping me company during dinner."

Before Margaret had a chance to respond, Draco crossed the room, hurrying down the hall and wondering how the situation had got so spectacularly out of control.

~*~*~

The next day passed with Draco trying to avoid too much contact with the other guests, which meant that he spent a lot of time in his room. By the late afternoon, he was bored and restless. Not even unfolding and refolding his knickers gave him the peace of mind this activity usually provided.

As soon as the rain cleared up, he threw on his coat and hastened out of the house, feeling the distinct need to stretch his legs. He passed the pasture that housed Harry's sheep, who didn't seem to have moved at all since the day before.

"Stupid sheep," he mumbled under his breath as he made his way along a well-beaten dirt path that meandered between the fields.

He could have walked down to Ravenstonedale proper, of course, but from the description he'd read in the leaflets stacked on the table in his room, there wasn't much to see, aside from a pub, a few shops, and the ruins Margaret had mentioned the day before. Besides, he'd have to interact with Muggles, who he still found a little off-putting even after having been dragged into Muggle London by various friends and lovers over the years.

Draco longingly thought of his favorite tea shop where he'd be able to have a perfectly brewed cup or two, leisurely read the _Daily Prophet_ and _Wizards' Fashion_, and while away a few hours doing nothing but occasionally overhearing gossip at neighbouring tables. Of course he only indulged in such an afternoon every few months, if that. His wand itched in his pocket, but he dismissed the idea straight away. Long-distance Apparition always took it out of him, and he'd be flat on his back for the better part of tomorrow. Without someone to fuss over him, that didn't sound like an inviting idea at all.

Trees, fields, and a cloudy sky it was, then; scenery he could appreciate on an aesthetic level, but personally couldn't care less about. This brought another nagging issue to the forefront of his mind: what to do about Harry.

After having examined yesterday's conversation between the two of them, Draco had come to the conclusion that Harry, at the very least, seemed inclined to spend more time with him. And he had admitted to himself that he'd like Harry to do a lot more than that. But what was the point? They might spend a few days together, and then he'd go back to London, and Harry would stay with his sheep. Not exactly favourable circumstances, and Draco was tired of short flings. He'd had enough of those in the past. Besides, this was Harry. Either he'd have Harry, or he wouldn't. Not starting anything they couldn't finish was by far the more sensible option, even if it was most dissatisfying.

Draco forcefully kicked at a stone, which splashed into a puddle and splattered a healthy dose of muddy water all over his light trousers.

"Fuck!"

With a swift wave of his wand, Draco Banished the dirt, and then blasted a few nearby shrubs across the adjoining meadow, just because he felt like it. The nervous energy that had been building inside him subsided somewhat, leaving him much calmer than before. It occurred to Draco once again that doing magic was like wanking, really: an absolutely integral part of life.

An idea involving his bed, the new silk camisole he'd bought last week, and page 234 of _Wizards in Love, Part XVII_ formed in his mind. Perhaps this afternoon wasn't a complete loss yet.

He'd just rounded the corner of The Fat Lamb's pasture when he spotted Harry, who once again seemed busy with his sheep.

Hoping to slip by unnoticed, Draco increased his pace, but to no avail.

"Draco, wait!" Harry jogged across the grass and came to a stop just inside the gate. Flushed and grinning like a fool, he said, "Hi! Out for walk?"

"Brilliant deduction. Just heading back, actually." Draco tried to resolutely push certain recently formed ideas to a far corner of his brain. "I'm surprised the sheep aren't following you like a flush of devoted ducklings."

"Nah, sheep aren't like that."

"Uhuh." Draco fumbled for something else to add. "So, everything going well for them?"

Harry glanced back at the sheep. "Yeah, fine. I think we're going to have our first lamb soon." He nearly bounced with excitement.

"Ah." Draco withheld the comment about his favourite lambs being those served with roasted vegetables and potatoes.

Harry's shoulders slumped a little. "Sorry, I tend to get carried away when it comes to them."

"Well, it's an exciting event, I suppose," Draco managed.

Laughing, Harry replied, "Thanks for pretending you're interested."

"Hey!"

"What, don't tell me you genuinely care about my sheep."

_No, but I care about you, you idiot_, Draco retorted in his head.

Harry stepped closer to the gate, resting both of his hands on top of it. "Draco, would you—would you have dinner with me tonight? Nothing fancy, just dinner in the kitchen, unless you'd rather go out somewhere, of course, because there's this—"

"The kitchen is fine," Draco interrupted before Harry could formulate any exceedingly romantic ideas. At least this way, there wouldn't be another dinner with Margaret trying to unearth the secrets of his past.

Harry smiled again in that too captivating way of his. "Anytime after six is good."

Draco nodded. "See you then."

Harry gave him a wave and turned back to his sheep. Draco watched him walk away, an uneasy mix of excitement and dread coiling in his stomach.

~*~*~

As Draco was walking towards the kitchen at a fashionably late quarter to seven, he had no idea what to expect. At first he'd been certain that this was a date; a fairly odd one, but a date nonetheless. An afternoon with plenty of time to think (and wank) had made him question this assumption, however. What if Harry simply wanted to catch up? When Harry had left London, they probably were what other people might have called "friends", even if Draco personally didn't think he could ever be "friends" with Harry—it was a too simple name for a too complex relationship. But as Harry had always been on the simple side where these things were concerned, he might very well consider Draco a friend, and "catching up" after time spent apart would make perfect sense.

Taking a deep breath, Draco stepped into the kitchen, a nonchalant expression plastered on his face. "Evening, Harry."

Harry promptly dropped the fork he was toying with, bent over to pick it up, and straightened to greet Draco with a now familiar flush on his face. "Hi. Er. Sit down. Everything's ready."

A date, then. Not even Harry had reason to be nervous if this was just an evening of reminiscing between friends. "Thank you," Draco replied politely.

He noted the crisp tablecloth and the slightly crooked candle with some amusement. At least Harry was making an effort, which was something Draco always appreciated.

"What's on the menu?" Draco asked, watching Harry busy himself with plates.

"Stew."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but wasn't that served last night?"

Harry lifted the lid off of a big pot. "That was a different kind of stew."

Draco had a remark about the cook's skills on the tip of his tongue, but decided it wouldn't set the right tone for the evening, so he merely waited silently until Harry joined him at the table, carrying two plates with generous portions of stew.

"I know it's probably not up to your standards," Harry began. "But as Margaret probably mentioned to you, Martin is sick so I've taken over his dinner duties for the week, and, well, my repertoire is limited, I'm afraid."

"Now that's an understatement!" The words were out of Draco's mouth before he'd even finished thinking them.

Harry pushed his glasses up his nose, eyes trained on the fork he was fiddling with. "I've never enjoyed cooking very much," he replied quietly.

Draco wanted to reach out and rest his hand over Harry's to make him stop fidgeting. Instead, he merely twisted his fingers into his napkin. "It's not exactly an essential skill in life, is it?" he asked lightly.

Harry merely shrugged.

Making people feel better about themselves wasn't one of Draco's strong suits, but then again he didn't consider that an important skill to have, either. What he had learned to value over the years, though, was how to make an honest apology.

"I shouldn't have said that. About your cooking, I mean."

Harry's eyes flicked up to him, a little spark in them. "I know my meals aren't anything to write home about, but I really tried with this one. Margaret gave me a few tips."

With a smile, Draco tried the stew, which was indeed better than the night before. "'s good," he observed.

"Is it?"

Draco nodded, pleased to see the hint of a smile on Harry's face as well.

They ate in silence for a few minutes. Just as Harry had started to say, "So, I've been wondering—" Margaret came bustling through the door.

Waving her hands, she proclaimed, "Don't mind me, don't mind me, I'm only here to—" Her eyes darted around the room, coming back to the table more often than necessary. "—to get more salt."

She strode over to the cabinets and pulled out a large container. "Mr McAlistere's been going round the dining room using up all the salt in those little shakers we have," she explained, eyeing Harry and Draco intently. "No offence, Harry. Mr McAlistere's clearly lacking a few taste buds or he wouldn't need all that salt. The stew is absolutely marvelous. Isn't it, Draco?"

Tempted to roll his eyes, Draco decided to play along nevertheless. "Some of the best I've ever had."

"There you go! Exactly what I said. Harry's been a bit nervous about dinner, you see—"

"Margaret," Harry interrupted, his cheeks tinted a deep pink, "I believe Mr McAlistere is waiting for his salt."

"Oh, right, of course he is. Ever so sorry to interrupt, boys!" She hastily made her way through the door, only to stick her head into the room right after she'd left it. "But do let me know if you need anything."

"I believe we'll be just fine, thank you," Draco said firmly.

With a nod, Margaret disappeared once more.

After a grace period of about three seconds, Harry broke out in barely restrained laughter of the very infectious sort that had Draco wiping his eyes a minute later.

"So," Harry began once he'd regained his composure, "Do you think she's trying to set us up?"

Tapping his finger against his chin, Draco replied. "Let me think." He paused, picking out a few carrots from his stew and chewing them carefully. "That would be a big yes."

Harry laughed again. "She's a bit obvious with it, isn't she?"

Draco nodded. "After I'd mentioned that I'm not seeing anyone right now, she latched onto my words like a Grindylow."

"And then proceeded to drop hints about all your charms to me. When she heard that we already knew each other, she practically bounced off the walls." Harry shook his head.

"Does that mean there isn't anyone special in your life right now?" Draco asked, trying to sound casual.

For a moment, Harry looked at him with one of those intent gazes that made Draco's stomach twist into a hundred little knots. "It's a small village, and mostly Muggle."

"I wouldn't think the Muggle part would bother you."

Harry took a few more bites, then set down his fork. "Well, not in theory. But—but it does. They've no idea about the war, about what happened." His voice dropped. "About the things I did. I can't imagine—it would be difficult to be with someone who doesn't know."

Once again, Draco wanted to reach out, but hesitated, the awkward hug-and-kiss flitting through his mind. "Yeah, I imagine it would be."

Harry nodded hesitantly, then pushed his chair back and reached for his plate. "Are you done as well?"

"Yes, thank you."

Harry collected Draco's plate and walked over to the sink, where he lingered longer than necessary. Draco couldn't see his face, but the rise and fall of his shoulders told him enough about Harry's state of mind. He tried to think of something comforting to say, but his mind was completely blank.

When Harry turned back towards him, a determined cheerfulness had settled over his features. "Would you like some tea?"

"That would be wonderful."

Draco decided that Harry wasn't the one responsible for the horrible tea in the mornings as this cup was brewed perfectly. He didn't hesitate to compliment Harry, and was pleased to receive a smile in return. It wasn't difficult to steer the conversation towards the subject of sheep. While certainly not Draco's favorite topic, he decided that he wanted to see more of Harry's smiles, and bringing up his sheep was a failsafe way to do so. Harry launched into a few stories about all the mischief the sheep had got themselves into in the past, and Draco tried his best to stick to his new resolution of actually listening to people. This proved to be difficult with Harry as he was a very animated storyteller, saying as much with his gestures as with his words, and Draco would have loved to lose himself in watching Harry without having to keep track of sheep names and the like.

Their cups had been refilled and drained again when, during a comfortable lull in their conversation, Harry announced, "I'd love to talk more, but I need to check up on the sheep. Should have gone about half an hour ago, actually. You're welcome to come along if you'd like."

Caught in an odd state of being simultaneously exhausted and very alert, Draco decided that a trip out to the pasture would be overdoing it. Besides, he didn't quite trust himself not to do anything foolish to Harry once they were alone in a dark and secluded spot.

"I'm afraid you'll have to brave the sheep alone. But do give them my regards."

With a laugh, Harry responded, "I'll do that. I'm sure they're going to appreciate it."

After disposing of the cups, Harry slipped on his jacket, which had been hanging on a peg near the back door.

Crossing the room to stand in front of him, Draco said, "Thanks for inviting me."

"Thank you for making it a wonderful evening," Harry replied warmly, zipping up his jacket.

Without really thinking about it, Draco reached for the buttons that closed over the zipper, and snapped them shut one by one. He felt Harry's gaze on him the entire time, but only looked up at him to nod at the green scarf that still hung next to the door. "Yours?"

Harry cleared his throat, but his voice wobbled nonetheless. "Yeah."

Draco suppressed a grin while he wound the scarf around Harry's neck, tying the ends into a loose knot. He was just about to withdraw his hands when Harry caught his wrists.

"See you tomorrow?" he asked. His thumbs moved over Draco's skin.

"If you'd like," Draco replied automatically, too distracted by Harry's touch.

"I would."

Before Draco had a proper chance to realise what was happening, Harry's lips were pressing against his cheek in a soft kiss, followed by a whispered "Good night" right next to his ear.

"Night," Draco mumbled, tingling all over.

Harry released his hands, and with one last smile, walked out the door.

~*~*~

Loud knocking tore Draco out of his sleep later that night. At twenty-three past four, to be precise, as a quick glance at the Muggle clock on the nightstand revealed. Curses flowing steadily from his lips, Draco grabbed his wand from under the pillow and stumbled to the door

A rainsoaked and agitated Harry greeted him on the other side. "Sorry to wake you, but I need...uhhhh..." He blinked, his gaze moving up and down Draco's body.

While secretly pleased that the gauzy camisole with matching little shorts apparently rendered Harry speechless, Draco very much wanted to know what exactly he needed from him. "It's impolite to stare, you know."

Harry's eyes snapped up to Draco's face. "Sorry. I—there's a problem with one of the sheep. She's lambing, and—and she's having difficulties. 's her first time. I'd ask Margaret, but it's her night off, and I could really use another set of hands."

He looked imploringly at Draco.

The thought of trudging across a muddy field during a freezing cold and wet night to help some bloody sheep give birth made Draco recoil. He unconsciously took a step backward.

"Please, Draco."

"I don't know the first thing about sheep, so I don't think I'm the right person for—"

"Doesn't matter," Harry interrupted. "I'll tell you what to do. It's not difficult. And—" He hesitated. "And I'd feel much better out there if someone—if you were there."

Even though Harry sounded relatively calm, his tense posture spoke of a quiet desperation that Draco found difficult to resist. He watched Harry shift from one foot to another for a few moments before making up his mind.

"All right. But you owe me for this one."

Relief washed over Harry's feature. "Thank you."

"Give me five minutes. And you better be ready to Apparate both of us out to wherever that sheep is. I'm not walking there."

"Sure, no problem, just, please hurry, okay?"

Draco nodded and closed the door, leaving Harry waiting in the hall. He dressed as quickly as he could, casting water-repelling charms on every item he put on. Notes warning him about his use of magic popped up and fluttered around his head. A quick _Incendio_ put an end to them, and Draco batted away the last note that dared to appear after the other ones had met their fiery fate. He was in the process of putting on his coat when more insistent knocking announced Harry's impatience.

"Yeah, yeah, coming," Draco called out, slightly annoyed.

When he stepped out of the room, Harry took him by the arm.

"Not worried the Muggles might see us?" Draco teased.

"No time," Harry muttered and Apparated them without any further warning.

~*~*~

The _pop_ in Draco's ears hadn't even fully subsided yet when Harry set out into the dark with quick steps. The heavy rain obscured his form even though he couldn't be more than a few feet ahead.

"Wait!" Draco hurried to follow, drawing his wand. After a muttered _Lumos_, he could at least see where he was going. "I told you I'm not walking across sodding fields to—"

"Couldn't risk Apparating on top of her," Harry shouted over his shoulder, coming to a halt next to one of the walls encircling the pasture.

Only when he bent down did Draco become aware of the small sheep that had pressed itself closely to the stones. Its fleece was streaked with dirt, barely distinguishable from the ground. Draco would have walked right past without ever noticing it.

"Fuck," Harry swore, kneeling over the sheep, peering and poking at parts of it that Draco never wanted to see up close. "Fuck! I thought maybe it would...argh, Draco, come here."

Hesitantly, Draco took a step closer. "Yes?"

A goo-covered hand shot out to him, narrowly missing the edge of Draco's coat. "Hold your wand right over here so I can see—"

"Watch that hand," Draco hissed, but obliged Harry's request. He kept his eyes firmly trained on the stonewall, focusing on how the rain trickled past his collar down his neck rather than on whatever might be happening with that bloody sheep. Which was far too quiet if it really was in as much distress as Harry made it out to be. Didn't women always scream their heads off when they were in labour?

"Head's coming first," Harry reported.

Not that Draco really cared. "Uhuh."

"That's bad," Harry added, obviously worried. Rustling indicated that he was taking off his jacket.

Draco made the mistake of slightly turning his head to look at Harry, which meant he also caught an eyeful of something that couldn't possibly be a head sticking out of the sheep, although it was hard to tell through all the mucus surrounding it. Draco's stomach heaved.

"Everything all right there?" Harry asked.

"Of course," Draco gritted out.

Harry turned further towards him, rain drops bouncing off his glasses. "I need to help her or she won't be able to push the lamb out. I'll reach in and—"

"You're going to stick your hands up...there?" Draco's stomach did another flip.

"Yeah. It's—yeah. I've done it before, so...um. Can you hold her head? Sometimes they try to squirm away."

Draco stared at Harry, who was pushing his jumper up to his elbows. The temptation to Apparate back to his room, where he could crawl under the covers and pretend this was all a horrible dream, was nearly overwhelming. But he'd encountered far worse in his life, and one small sheep wouldn't best him.

"Draco?" Harry sounded concerned.

Almost mechanically, Draco dropped to his knees, his fingers digging into the wool on the sheep's neck to get a firm grip. The smell coming off the animal made Draco even more nauseous, but he managed to bite out an "Okay" to Harry.

Even though Draco kept his gaze fixed on a patch of wet grass, the squelching noises he heard over the rain supplied his imagination with enough to know what exactly Harry was doing. When spots began to dance in front of Draco's eyes, he took a few deep breaths, which only helped to make the scent of wet wool more prounounced.

Without further warning, Draco's world went dark.

~*~*~

Draco woke up to a fuzzy feeling in his head and a warm weight curled around his right side. Rain was beating against a nearby window. As his eyes adjusted to the twilight in the room—_must be early morning_, then, Draco thought—unfamiliar furniture came into view. The dark hair right under his nose, however, was very familiar, and thankfully, didn't smell like sheep at all.

It should have probably bothered Draco that he had no idea how he'd ended up in what was most likely Harry's bed, but the sleepy haziness still lingering in his mind and the comfortable heaviness in his limbs rendered that question unimportant. He much preferred to drift in this half-awake state, listening to Harry's even breathing and to the relentless rain. Resting his cheek more fully against the top of Harry's head, he smiled when coarse strands tickled against his skin.

It was all quite perfect, really.

Except that Harry's weight was cutting off the circulation in Draco's right arm and drool was soaking through the fabric at his shoulder. And Draco was quite sure that they weren't at any point close to where he'd let Harry get away with either of those things.

Carefully, he disentangled himself, slipping his arm out from under Harry's body and allowing his head to gently drop onto the pillow.

But apparently, Harry was a light sleeper. He stirred, one hand coming up to rub at his eyes, which opened slowly. They looked different from any other time Draco had seen them; a deeper green than usual, and almost entirely unguarded. It occurred to him that he'd only seen Harry without his glasses a handful of times, and never right after waking up next to him.

"You're awake." Harry's voice was scratchy with sleep.

"Haven't been for long."

Realisation flickered through Harry's eyes and he moved to the edge of the pillow—far enough so that their arms and legs were no longer touching, but still close enough for Draco to feel the warmth radiating off his body.

"Sorry 'bout that," Harry mumbled. "I always end up, um, really close to whoever sleeps in the same bed as me."

So Harry Potter was a snuggler. Somehow, Draco wasn't surprised.

"There was this one time during the war when Ron—but never mind that. Hermione has this theory about it. Not enough physical contact as a child or some rubbish like that."

Draco wondered if there might be some truth to that, but kept the thought to himself. "Hermione's got a lot of theories about everything."

"Yeah, you'd know, working with her." Harry yawned. "How's your head?"

"Fuzzy."

Harry frowned. "Do you feel nauseous?"

Contemplating this for a moment, Draco replied, "Don't think so."

"Hmm. Shouldn't have let you fall asleep." Harry sighed. "Shouldn't have fallen asleep myself."

"What happened?"

Harry seemed to be weighing his words. "You, um, fainted."

"Oh." Draco pulled the duvet up to his nose, feeling quite embarrassed. "Sorry."

"No, it's—it's all right. 's not the most pleasant thing to see. Turned my stomach the first few times, too. I saw you toppling over and I wish I'd caught you, but, well, you know where my hands were."

Draco's face twisted up at the memory.

"Er, okay, no more sheep talk. But they're fine, if you want to know." Harry smiled with a hint of pride.

"That's good." Draco found it both endearing and incomprehensible how Harry could be so besotted with animals that clearly were only trouble and not much else.

Harry studied him intently. "I was worried that you might have a concussion, and you know how they say that people with concussions shouldn't be alone. In case you were wondering why you're here."

"Here is your bedroom, I assume."

"Yeah."

"And you had to strip me down to t-shirt and—" Draco almost said 'knickers' because that was really the most accurate description of the little shorts he was still wearing, but felt this might lead to unnecessary questions. "And pants because all my other clothes were too wet and dirty?"

Harry's eyes darted away. "Right. Well. Your trousers were definitely a lost cause, and your jumper—"

Draco suppressed a grin. "No need for explanations. I don't mind."

"Oh. Good." The mattress sloped as Harry shifted closer again. He tucked one hand under his cheek, palm against the pillow. When his eyes met Draco's once more, there was an earnest expression in them. "Thank you for helping me."

"Wasn't much help, was I?" Draco whispered into the sheets.

"You were," Harry insisted.

"Consider it my good deed of the day, in that case. Or perhaps even of the week."

"I'll keep that in mind." Harry's hand inched across the pillow. "Are you sure you didn't hit your head? There are usually quite a few stones on the ground near the walls..."

"As I was already unconscious at that point, I really can't say," Draco answered slowly, trying to assess if this was true concern on Harry's part, or a really unsubtle way of getting closer.

"Can I?" Harry's hand hovered in the air.

Draco dipped his head in silent assent. Fingers carded through his hair and gently felt along his scalp. Allowing his eyes to close, Draco further turned into the movement. He absently noticed that an arm slid under his shoulders, but he was too distracted by the light scrape of nails over his skin. Without quite realising it, he'd slid into the crook of Harry's arm.

"No bumps on your head," Harry whispered.

"Really."

"None whatsoever."

"If you say so." With a smile, Draco burrowed closer to Harry. "That was one of the clunkiest attempts at seduction I've ever witnessed, you know."

"Worked, though, didn't it?"

Draco made a non-committal noise.

"Besides, seduction usually ends with _all_ clothes off, and not only half of them."

"Well, what would you call this, then?"

Harry didn't answer right away. The hand that had rested at the top of Draco's spine moved down his back in one slow stroke. "I don't know," he admitted quietly.

Draco didn't like the change in Harry's tone. It had become far too serious all of a sudden, and what was worse, he sounded uncertain. That wouldn't do at all—not when they'd basically admitted their interest in each other, even if it had only been through a round of bickering. And certainly not after the resolution he'd made the day before.

"Harry." The tension rippling through the body next to him didn't escape Draco's notice. He backed up, needing to see Harry's face, which was filled with apprehension. "What would you call this?"

Draco should have known when the pressure of Harry's hand on his lower back increased and he drew himself close, but the kiss still caught him off-guard. He didn't even have a proper chance to react before Harry moved away again.

"'m not good with words."

Draco didn't know if he should kick him or snog him senseless. At least Harry hadn't missed his mouth this time. With a sigh, he rolled onto his back, grateful when Harry let him slip out of the embrace without trying to keep him close. He stared up at the ceiling, at a loss of what to do or say.

"Do you—" Harry began. "Do you remember that ball two years ago?"

Draco continued to look at the ceiling. In an even voice, he replied, "Yes."

Harry's body pressed against Draco's side again, tantalising in its warmth. "Should—should've done it properly then." Spoken too hastily, the words stumbled over each other.

Draco pulled his arms up to his chest, almost as if he needed a physical barrier between himself and Harry. He risked a quick glance at Harry, then back to the ceiling. "What do you mean?"

Now propped up on one elbow, Harry took up more of Draco's field of vision than before, becoming harder to ignore.

"I mean that..." Harry began. Paused. Started again. "I mean that I shouldn't have hesitated that evening. Or at least should've given the kiss another go. But..." He sighed. "But I thought maybe I'd already gone too far, and you were simply too surprised to say anything. And then you were gone."

The words washed over Draco. He lay still until Harry's breath hitched after he'd finished speaking, one little broken sound that made every particle in Draco's body draw tightly together. He rolled over on his side, away from Harry, knees drawn up.

How stupid they'd both been that evening, wanting the same thing and being too afraid to reach for it. Too many what-ifs raced through Draco's mind, all of them underlining the chance they'd missed and the time lost because of it. It wouldn't do to let that happen again, and Draco was keenly aware that he ought to say something to Harry, explain that no, he hadn't gone too far two years ago. But Draco couldn't move.

Fingers lightly touched his shoulder. He waited for Harry to say something, but no words followed the hesitant touch. When the fingers began to slip away, Draco's own scrabbled to meet them, capturing Harry's palm and tugging at it until arm and body followed. Harry folded himself around Draco, a tight and tense alignment.

Draco held Harry's hand between his own, a tangle of fingers tucked against his chest. Finally he said, half-whispering, "You didn't go too far. And I was surprised, yes, but I didn't mind the kiss. Didn't mind at all. And—and you've no idea how often I've thought about what might've happened if I hadn't Apparated away so quickly."

The too tight hold of Harry's arms loosened a bit and their bodies molded together more comfortably. Draco leaned back until he felt that most of his weight was supported by Harry; the steady warmth that flowed into his back induced a pleasant drowsiness.

"S'pose that makes both of us a bit stupid," Harry mumbled into Draco's hair.

"Hmm. But we're much smarter now." Draco paused. "Aren't we?"

Harry squeezed his hand. "Yeah. We definitely are."

~*~*~

When Draco woke up again, the bed was too empty. A quick glance around confirmed that Harry was indeed gone, which immediately put a damper on Draco's mood. He enjoyed a good lie-in, especially with the right company. Stretching his arms over his head until his back cracked in the most satisfying way, he nearly knocked the folded note off the nightstand. Catching it just in time, Draco sat up to read it.

In Harry's unmistakably scraggly writing, it said, __

Draco,

I'm sorry I can't be there when you wake up, but I had to make my first round with the sheep. Later today I'm driving up the fells to check on the sheep there—maybe you'd like to come along. I hope you do. It's beautiful up there. Meet me in the kitchen after lunch (please?).

Harry

Draco twirled the note between his fingers, weighing another encounter with the insufferable sheep against spending more time with Harry, only to find that this wasn't even a real decision. Of course he'd go along with the suggestion.

He flopped back down on the bed with an exasperated sigh. Clearly, he was doomed. Or rather, whipped, completely and utterly.


	2. Fic: There's Always One More Sheep Around the Corner, or A Week in Cumbria (Part 2)

  
  
  
**Entry tags:** |   
[author coffeejunkii](http://community.livejournal.com/serpentinelion/tag/author+coffeejunkii), [secrets and wishes](http://community.livejournal.com/serpentinelion/tag/secrets+and+wishes)  
  
---|---  
  
_ **Fic: There's Always One More Sheep Around the Corner, or A Week in Cumbria (Part 2)** _

There's Always One More Sheep Around the Corner, or A Week in Cumbria, Part 2

Pairing: Harry/Draco  
Rating: R

Written for [](http://grunhilda.livejournal.com/profile)[**grunhilda**](http://grunhilda.livejournal.com/)'s request: _Oddly enough, war-worn Harry finds solace among green hills, deep clear lakes and a herd of woolly, sweet, but very stupid sheep. he is also the keeper of a very lovely and secluded B&amp;B (wizard or muggle optional. could be both). workaholic-from-trying-to-forget-Harry and with a secret fetish for women's lingerie!Draco is sent there by interfering!Hermione to "rest his poor misguided nerves". stir, season with pepper and a lot of dreadful weather. Draco has no idea that it's Harry's inn of course. Harry isn't hiding from the Wizarding world, and makes public appearances at grand ministry parties and the like. there should be lots of rainy windows (rain snogging? me loves a good rainsnog), bad cooking (of Harry's) as the chef takes a week off, and knicker lace (on Draco). I want a humorous fic, but not to the point that it's (too) silly. pet names are a squick of mine. no BDSM, but NC-17 wouldn't hurt ;) _

Thank you so much to my wonderful betas and Britpickers, [](http://lusiology.livejournal.com/profile)[**lusiology**](http://lusiology.livejournal.com/), [](http://rurounihime.livejournal.com/profile)[**rurounihime**](http://rurounihime.livejournal.com/) and [](http://snottygrrl.livejournal.com/profile)[**snottygrrl**](http://snottygrrl.livejournal.com/). Also thanks to [](http://best-of-five.livejournal.com/profile)[**best_of_five**](http://best-of-five.livejournal.com/) for patiently listening to me rambling on about sheep farming in Cumbria, and to [](http://akahannah.livejournal.com/profile)[**akahannah**](http://akahannah.livejournal.com/) for her insights into many sheep-related things.

Continued from [Part 1](http://community.livejournal.com/serpentinelion/110699.html).

~*~*~

Draco carefully peeked around the doorframe into the kitchen. It was empty, and thus Margaret-free. Relieved, Draco stepped inside. A mouthwatering aroma hung in the air, apparently emanating from a basket sitting on the table. Perhaps Harry had packed a lunch for them? Draco was just about to inspect the contents hidden under a checkered cloth when a door swung open, revealing Margaret, her arms full of tins, and a well-stocked pantry behind her.

"Mr Malfoy! I almost feared you'd disappeared on us!" She dropped the tins on the work surface next to the sink.

Draco drew himself up to his full height. "No, I'm afraid you're stuck with me for a while longer."

"Ah, we're delighted to have you here. Harry in particular." She winked.

Draco decided not to grace that with a reply. He hoped for Harry's benefit that Margaret didn't know anything about last night.

"Harry mentioned you're going up to the fell today. As the weather's so perfect I thought the two of you could have a picnic. It can be very--" She leaned closer to Draco, her eyes bright with merriment. "Very romantic up there."

Draco froze. He credited the fact that he could still say anything to his good upbringing with endless lessons about manners. "Thank you, that's very kind of you."

Margaret waved her hand. "Oh, my pleasure. You go and have a good time, dear."

Draco's treacherous mind supplied a number of images to illustrate what a "good time" with Harry might entail. While he was frantically casting about for something to say to Margaret, the object of Draco's fantasies stuck his head through the backdoor.

"There you are!" Harry beamed.

"You said to meet you in the kitchen," Draco managed through gritted teeth.

"Oh? Sorry. Must have slipped my mind." Harry shrugged and ducked his head.

"No harm done," Margaret interrupted. "Draco and I had a nice chat."

Harry's head snapped back up, and Draco had to smirk at the momentary panic written on his face.

"A very nice chat, indeed," he said sweetly. Grabbing the basket, Draco moved towards the backdoor. "But I'm afraid we have to get going."

Harry tried to catch his gaze, but Draco purposefully avoided it. Served him right to sweat a bit about what Margaret may or may not know about his love life now.

"Don't worry about the sheep, Harry, I've got them covered for the afternoon," Margaret called out as Draco slipped out the door.

Harry gave her an acknowledging wave before starting down the gravel path that led to the front of the house. "You didn't tell her anything, did you?" he asked urgently.

Taking his time to respond, Draco finally said, "Of course not."

"Thank god. She cornered me this morning and tried to fish for information, but I only mentioned that we'd be taking a drive together today."

Draco frowned. "A drive? We're not Apparating?"

"Um, no. We're going to take the jeep."

"The what?"

Harry gestured at a beaten up vehicle. "My car. I like driving. Besides, you've a much better view that way."

Draco eyed the Muggle contraption skeptically. "I hope your emergency Apparition skills are as good as they used to be in case we need to make a quick exit when this...this jeep collapses under our arses."

Harry laughed and opened the passenger door. "No worries, it's built for rough terrain."

"Rough terrain?" Draco repeated slowly.

"Never mind that. It'll be a smooth ride. Promise." Harry sent him his most charming smile.

With a sigh, Draco climbed into the jeep.

~*~*~

"You can let go now, Draco," Harry said in a soothing voice.

Clutching his seat and the door even though the beast had come to standstill—thank Merlin for that—Draco tried to calm his hammering heart. The "smooth ride" Harry had promised had turned out to be a daredevil undertaking involving steep climbs, impossibly narrow paths along muddy ridges, and a lot of being tossed here and there while the car made its way up the hills.

"Hey." Harry gently pried Draco's fingers away from the seat, holding on to them and rubbing comforting circles into his palms.

Green eyes bore into Draco and he couldn't find a way to look away, to hide the panic still flipping about inside. Harry moved closer. His fingers brushed along Draco's cheek in a soft slide and then his lips touched Draco's, claiming them slowly. Melting into the touch, he opened his mouth to Harry's questing tongue, allowing it to twine with his own.

"Better now?" Harry asked after they'd pulled apart.

Draco nodded. "Much."

Harry's hand lingered against the side of Draco's face. "Sorry. I thought that a bump in the road here and there wouldn't bother you, considering the stunts you've pulled off on a broom."

"A broom is much, _much_ safer than this death trap," Draco observed.

Harry smiled. "I'll keep that in mind." He drew back and opened the door on his side. "Ready to say hello to the sheep?"

Draco groaned and climbed out of the jeep, legs shakier than he'd expected. He surveyed the [surrounding landscape](http://i8.photobucket.com/albums/a11/mesk2/various/sheep/highcupgill_edited.jpg), which admittedly was rather impressive. "Where are the little pests?"

"Let's see." Harry pulled a map from his pocket. "All my sheep have magical tracers on them. Makes them easier to find. Hmmm, ah, there they are."

Draco looked over Harry's shoulder and saw a dozen little dots not far from two larger dots that he presumed were Harry and himself. "Getting there better not involve any risky stunts."

"Nah. Now that we're at this height, it's all relatively flat." He put away the map. "Can you fetch the basket?"

Draco Accio-ed the basket, shrinking it as it sailed towards them. Harry looked impressed. "Well, I'm glad one of us remembers how to be a wizard," Draco replied dryly.

"I do plenty of magic, if you must know, but there are certain things I prefer to use my hands for." The heated look that accompanied the statement made Draco think that Harry wasn't talking about picnic baskets.

Trailing after Harry, Draco took in the scenery—a grassy, [sunlit plain](http://i8.photobucket.com/albums/a11/mesk2/various/sheep/middletonguenearhighcup.jpg) stretching out in front of them, with steep slopes dropping away not too far on their right, and the rise and fall of more hills all around. The sunshine was a nice change after the rain and clouds of previous days. Draco stopped and turned his face upwards, eyes closed, enjoying the warmth prickling lightly against his skin. He stood still for a good minute or two, content to breathe deeply and to listen to the breeze sweep over the plain. As he blinked open his eyes again, he found Harry watching him, a fond expression on his familiar features. Draco had to admit that he rather liked Harry gazing at him with such adoration.

Without thinking about it, Draco crossed the short distance between them, grasped Harry's shoulder with one hand and his nape with the other, and kissed him. Harry's surprised gasp quickly turned into little noises that indicated just how much he enjoyed Draco nipping at his lips and licking into his mouth. His hands tightened on Draco's hips, pulling their bodies together, at which point Draco gently disentangled himself, whispering, "The sheep."

"Right." Harry stepped away, only letting go of Draco at the last possible moment.

Upon reaching the small herd of sheep, Harry started nattering on about rams and shearlings and gimmers, all things Draco had no idea about, but he rather enjoyed studying the way Harry handled the sheep. It was obvious that he knew exactly what he was doing. There was considerable strength in his hands and arms that enabled him to hold a squirming sheep in a sure grasp without causing any harm.

As much as Draco wanted to deny it, his thoughts soon wandered to other possible things Harry could do with his hands—slide into the bend of Draco's knee, for example, or curl around a shoulder, or hold down his hips...

Something nuzzled against Draco's neck, and he instinctively jumped and shrieked and batted at the unknown assailant, only to find out that it was Harry, who was now doubled over with laughter.

"Sorry," he wheezed, "Didn't mean to frighten you."

"Very funny, haha." Draco sulked a little, while also wondering if Harry might do the nuzzling bit again, which would be very pleasant now that he knew that none of the wildlife were planning to make a meal out of his neck.

Harry grinned. "You had that dazed look on your face. Like you were really bored, so I figured I'd do something to make you less bored."

Willing the heat rising in him not to spread to his cheeks, Draco replied, "Right. I was _very_ bored, if you must know, and I sincerely hope you're done with the sheep now." Before Harry could respond, he continued, "And please do cast a cleaning charm on yourself before lunch. I'd rather enjoy it--" _and you_, he added silently, "without the smell of wool hanging in the air."

Harry took a little bow. "As you wish."

They picked a spot away from the sheep and secluded from the breeze that offered a wide view of the valley running between the hills. A flick of Draco's wand enlarged the checkered cloth into a blanket. Harry's amused smirk was hard to miss, but Draco didn't care. At least his coat wasn't beyond saving yet, in contrast to Harry's trousers, which were dotted with grass and mud stains.

The basket yielded sandwiches, cheese, fruit, and biscuits, which they ate along with water that Harry conjured with his wand. A comfortable silence settled around them until Harry began to fidget—drawing up his knees, letting go of them, crossing his legs, uncrossing them.

"Is something the matter?" Draco finally asked.

Harry turned towards him, frowning. "Can I ask you something?"

The fact that Harry had to preface his question in that way immediately put Draco on edge. "It depends, but go on."

Pulling up his knees again, Harry asked, "Well, I was wondering why—why you never tried to contact me. After the ball."

Draco plucked a grape from the bunch lying between them, and chewed it carefully before responding. "I could ask you the same thing."

The lines on Harry's face softened, the frown replaced by wistfulness and perhaps a hint of guilt. "I know. But I...I wasn't sure if you maybe weren't angry with me, and then there was so much to arrange when I bought the Inn, and--" He shook his head. "Bloody excuses, all of them."

"Maybe. Maybe not." Draco ate another grape. "I thought about owling you. For too long, as it turned out because by the time I'd made up my mind, you'd left London."

"Hermione didn't tell you about my plans?"

Draco's eyes dropped to the blanket. That was the crux of the matter, wasn't it? That he could have known all along where Harry lived, or what he was up to, if he'd only listened once in a while. "She might have."

Maybe he should tell Harry the truth, but it was too embarrassing, and if he admitted to one thing, all the other things that he'd rather keep locked up might spill forth, too, like how often he'd thought about Harry in the past two years.

He noticed Harry's hand creeping across the red-and-white cloth. _Oh, Harry, you sap,_ shot through Draco's mind, but he couldn't deny the tingling that spread through him when Harry's fingers nudged against his wrist. He slid his hand over Harry's, thumb trailing over the rough skin on his knuckles. Never one for overly affectionate gestures, their entwined fingers resting against the blanket struck Draco as an odd sight, almost as if this wasn't really his hand that was so firmly clasped together with Harry's. He couldn't help but laugh at himself.

"What?" Harry asked softly.

"Nothing."

"Oh, come on. There's something."

Looking out over the hills, Draco said slowly, "Doesn't this seem overly sentimental to you? A picnic, the picturesque landscape with the mandatory sheep." He paused. "Holding hands..."

Harry looked hurt and tried to withdraw his hand, but Draco held on to it.

"We don't have to—" Harry began.

"It's all right, I don't mind. I only meant that—that I usually don't—" Draco broke off, trying to gather his thoughts. His previous relationships had never made it to stage where Draco had any desire to advertise said romantic entanglement in such a public way. Not that being alone on the top of a hill constituted being in public, but still. It was the principle of the thing. "It's not something I'm used to, that's all."

Harry looked relieved. "I'm not really used to it either. But I've always thought—thought that it might be nice. With the right person, and all."

Draco's skin began to tingle again and he held Harry's gaze steadily. "Do you know what would be nice, too?" A smirk played around his lips.

Green eyes sparked with curiosity. "What?"

"If you continued whatever you were going to do to my neck earlier."

Harry moved to sit sideways next to Draco. Leaning in close enough for his breath to make every hair on Draco's nape stand up, he muttered, "You mean this?" His lips pressed softly between ear and jaw.

"Y-yes." A shiver spread through Draco.

"Hmm." Harry continued his explorations, making liberal use of his teeth and tongue as he made his way down to a protruding collarbone.

Draco's eyes had closed at one point, shutting out everything that might distract from the heavenly things Harry was doing to his neck. It shouldn't be possible for such a simple maneuvre to elicit such an overwhelming response, but he was crushing Harry's fingers and his breath turned into harsh, quick gasps and his blood was rushing south and—

Was that a raindrop on his face?

He was almost disinclined to care now that Harry was sucking on his pulse point but—

Yes, there was another one. And one more. Shit.

"Harry." He tried to pry himself away, but somehow an arm had found its way around Draco's waist and was holding on very tightly. "Harry!"

"Huh?"

"It's raining!" Draco hastily got to his feet.

"Fuck." Harry pointed to something behind Draco's back. "Seems like quite a downpour's headed our way."

Turning around, Draco saw the fast moving clouds just a few hilltops away. He hastened to levitate the remains of their lunch into the basket while Harry took care of the blanket. By the time everything had been shrunk and stowed, the few drops had turned into steady rainfall.

"Which way's the car?" Draco asked, turning up his collar and hunching his shoulders.

"The way we don't want to go into unless we want to get soaked." He set off in the opposite direction. "But there's an old field house just over the crest of that hill over there."

"A what?" Draco asked, nearly running now.

Breaking into a jog, Harry called out, "A barn of sorts."

It took them only a few minutes to reach their destination, long enough for Draco's coat to be drenched and for his hair to stick to his skin. Harry wasn't faring much better—while his jacket seemed waterproof, his trousers now clung to his legs. They stumbled through the door into what was nothing more than four crumbling walls and a leaking roof as far as Draco was concerned.

"You—You call this a barn?" He managed while catching his breath.

"Yes. Just be glad it's dry, more or less," Harry shot back, not nearly as winded as Draco.

"Not much use now," Draco mumbled under his breath as he walked over to the one window, staring out into the pouring rain. He unbuttoned his coat, dropping it on the dusty floor. It would probably cost a hefty sum to have it professionally spell-cleaned, but for now Draco was glad not be buried under dripping wool.

He felt Harry's presence behind him, and a tingle spread down his spine. Fingers hooked into the waistband of his trousers.

"You know," Harry began, his voice low and a little rough. "Last night, once I'd put you to bed, I took a shower."

Two thumbs traced the lace lining the edge of Draco's knickers, sometimes slipping underneath it, a light and maddening movement that made breathing difficult.

Harry placed an open-mouthed kiss against Draco's neck. "Couldn't get those out of my mind." He let the elastic snap against the skin. "Best wank I've had in ages."

A jolt of arousal raced through Draco. No longer able to stand still, he whipped around and pulled Harry against him, lips crashing against lips as they fell back against the window. The cool pane provided a satisfying contrast to the heat spreading between them, the occasional trickle of water that ran down the glass only a passing distraction from their efforts of fitting their bodies together. Draco wanted Harry closer and wound his arms around his shoulders, one hand tightening in his hair. The press of Harry's hips was a relief, if only momentary; the harder Harry ground against Draco, the more friction his body demanded. There was too much between them, and Draco wanted their clothes out of the way, wanted to feel Harry's movement without any dilution of sensation.

He broke away from the kiss. "Can you Apparate? Back to the Inn?" A harsh whisper was all he could manage.

"Can't." Harry pushed the collar of Draco's shirt to the side, latching on to where neck met shoulder. He mumbled a few jumbled words. "Splinch ourselves" was all Draco could make out.

With a quick yank on a few strands, Draco made Harry look up at him. The piercing gaze nearly made his knees buckle. "'m not doing this here."

A small whine escaped Harry's throat. "Want you. Please." He kissed Draco deeply. "Can't wait."

Draco struggled with the impulse of giving in, of shoving their trousers and underwear aside and letting Harry fuck him right against the window. The very grimey window. In a dusty barn. Draco might be nearly delirious with need, but not to the point where he couldn't see that a comfortable bed was only one quick Apparition away. Provided he could make Harry think clearly again.

Determined, Draco deftly undid the button and fly of Harry's trousers.

"Fuck, yes," Harry panted, his hands mirroring Draco's movements.

"Close?" Draco kept his first touches light.

"Yeah. Need more. Like this."

Draco shuddered at the firm grasp, the uncompromising stroke. His head dropped onto Harry's shoulder, and he tried to keep up with Harry's pace, which was nearly impossible when all he could think about was to push harder into Harry's hand. If the clipped breaths that broke against Draco's neck were any indication, that's all Harry was interested in, too. He curled his free hand into Harry's jacket, needing something to hold on to while pushing Harry further.

A choked sound, a brief flash of tension, and Harry came, spilling over Draco's fingers. Letting himself go, Draco followed soon after. They didn't move for a several moments, just leaning against each other.

Uncurling his hand from the jacket, Draco slid it up to Harry's face. Turning into the movement, Harry kissed his palm.

"Think you can manage to Apparate us now?" Draco asked softly.

The corners of Harry's mouth quirked. "Yeah. Should've known you play dirty to get your way."

"Oh, you haven't seen anything yet."

~*~*~

Once back in Harry's bedroom, they'd taken their time undressing, exploring each other's bodies as they went. Standing in front of each other, Harry seemed keen on mapping most of Draco's body with his mouth and tongue, twisting around him to trace over the rise and fall of his ribs or kiss the small of his back. Draco touched all the skin he could reach, pleased to see goosebumps in the wake of his fingertips.

When only the knickers remained on Draco, Harry stepped back, an appraising gaze roaming over his body.

"Like what you see?" Draco teased.

"Yes."

"I suppose I needn't have asked." Draco pointedly glanced at Harry's groin, only to find himself pulled flush against Harry, whose hands slid down the back of the knickers to squeeze his arse. "Hmm, keep doing that."

"Wish you didn't have to take them off," Harry replied hoarsely.

"Don't have—"

A sloppy kiss cut off his words. "Have to." There was barely enough space for Harry to utter these words, his lips touching Draco's with every syllable.

With agonizing slowness, Harry peeled the knickers off Draco, who squirmed when strong fingers traced along the crease of hip and thigh. A final shimmy, and the little piece of silk dropped to the floor.

Their bodies came together once more, remaining in constant motion. Draco pushed up against Harry, rolled his hips, tried to press himself closer still—

"Wait." Harry's hands tightened around Draco's upper arms. "Bed."

Draco didn't care as long as that meant he'd have that wonderful friction back. He nodded.

Harry tossed his glasses on a nearby chest of drawers before they dropped onto a tangle of sheets—obviously _someone_ didn't believe in neatness—and Draco was just reaching for Harry again when he slipped away to rummage through the drawer in the nightstand.

Draco's heart skipped a beat when Harry dropped a small jar onto the mattress between them. Oh. Yes. He stretched out onto his side as he watched Harry unscrew the lid and rub the thick fluid over his fingers.

"What now, Draco?" The question was half teasing, half serious.

"I—ohhh..." Whatever coherency he'd managed to hold on to vanished when Harry's hand closed around his cock. An unfamiliar prickling accompanied the touch. "Fuck, what is that?"

Harry laughed. "That is part of a very special recipe."

Draco dipped his fingers into the jar, making sure that his hand was sufficiently coated before reaching for Harry.

"God, yeah. So good." A flush spread over Harry's face, and down his neck to his chest. "Tell me—tell me what you like."

_Anything you might want to do to me_, Draco thought. A twist of Harry's hand left him breathless, nearly unable to speak. "Surprises. Like surprises."

A grin spread across Harry's face. "Me too." After quickly picking up the jar and dropping it on the nightstand, he leaned back over Draco, kissing him, gently at first, but then with increasing fierceness.

Part of Draco wanted to surrender, to simply feel what Harry would do to him, but another part wanted to see Harry under him, squirming, eyes dilated with desire. That part won out, and he hooked a leg around Harry's thigh and rolled him over. Sitting up, he bore down, pleased with the keening sound coming from Harry.

Harry pushed back—he must have planted his feet on the mattress—and nearly dislodged Draco.

"Not so fast," Draco warned, sliding his hands up Harry's arm to his wrists, which he pinned down above his head. For a few moments, Harry struggled back, straining against Draco's hold as they continued to move together in an unrelenting rhythm.

When Harry finally slumped into the mattress, he gazed up at Draco. A long moment passed, then he tilted his head, a movement that exposed his neck. "Want to fuck me?"

The words hit Draco like a punch; they shuddered through him all the way down to his cock. He was so close already, too close, and Harry's unexpected offer only spiked his arousal. "Later," he whispered, cutting off a possible protest by kissing Harry.

Their fingers interlaced, squeezing together as they rocked against each other. Draco broke away from Harry, desperate for air. His hips snapped two, three more times before he came. Fighting against the need to collapse, he freed one hand and brought it down between their bodies, watching as Harry's eyes fluttered close and his body arched.

Draco half-moved off Harry before flopping down on the bed. "Merlin."

"Uhuh." Harry lazily draped one of his arms around Draco's shoulders.

"Don't think I can ever move again."

Harry laughed and nuzzled his cheek. "Then don't. I'd be happy to keep you in this bed."

"Hmmm. Cleaning charm might be nice though."

Harry wrinkled his nose. "Ugh, those always make my skin itch."

"Perhaps, but this?" Draco drew one finger through the sticky mess on Harry's stomach. "Is going to itch even more once it's dry."

"'s not dry yet." Harry yawned.

"Maybe your charms aren't up to par."

"My charms are excellent, thank you."

"How do you plan on getting rid of this, then?" Draco drew more lazy circles.

"The Muggle way—with my hands, water, and soap."

Draco hmphed. "Suit yourself. Hand me my wand when you get up, will you?"

"'m not getting up now."

"I think you are."

"Nope."

"Oh yes." Draco started kicking against Harry's shin.

"Hey! Stop—okay, okay, I'm going." Harry glared at him, but the barely contained grin undid any force that scowl might have had. "Wanker."

Sprawling out over the bed, Draco watched Harry rifle through his clothes for his wand. "Coat," he provided helpfully.

"Ah, here." Harry weighed the wood in his hands. "Think it would work for me?"

"Maybe, but I wouldn't recomm—"

Too late. Harry was already pointing the wand at the bed, lips forming soundless words.

"What are you—don't you try anything you might regr—" Draco shrieked as the sheets pulled themselves from under him, effectively bouncing him off the bed. "Ouch, that hurt! Potter, you arse!"

Harry was biting his lip. "Sorry? You insisted on everything being neat and clean, so I figured we should change the bedding, too."

Sulking, Draco watched the used sheets sail into the hamper while the new ones arranged themselves on the bed. "Can I have my wand now, please?"

Harry tossed it to him. "Be right back." He disappeared in the adjoining bathroom, just barely ducking away from the Stinging Hex Draco hurled at him.

"Argh!" Draco paced around the bedroom a few times, trying to figure out what had got him so riled up.

He wasn't even angry with Harry, really. The opposite, rather. Draco's chest tightened at the mere thought of Harry. The echo of his touches still lingered on Draco's skin, and yet a yearning for more of the same tugged at Draco's senses. Harry would return quickly enough, of course, but the afternoon would end too soon, as would this entire week, and then—

No. He wouldn't think about this now. There was no reason to waste whatever time they had together with these thoughts.

Draco spelled himself clean and climbed back under the covers. Scratching at the hair low on his belly, he grumpily had to agree with Harry about the charm's side effects. He flipped onto his stomach, punching the pillow into submission.

At least it had stopped raining. Sunshine was streaming in through the window, bathing the bed in warmth. Draco closed his eyes. He might as well enjoy this until Harry returned.

Perhaps he'd nodded off because he wasn't aware of Harry's presence before hearing his voice.

"You look gorgeous like that."

The world came into hazy focus as Draco's eyes slowly readjusted to the brightness of the room. Harry was standing next to the bed, that fond gaze on his face again. Draco wanted Harry beside him, quite desperately so, in fact. He held out one hand. "Is that so?"

Harry accepted the hand and allowed himself be pulled down. "Yes." Dropping a kiss to Draco's shoulder, he said, "Sorry for that spell. It usually doesn't come out quite as forcefully."

"And that's why you shouldn't go around playing with other people's wands."

Harry smirked.

"Oh, shush, you know what I mean."

A peal of laugher broke the quiet of the room.

"But if you want to make up for the several bruises that are sure to develop, you can scratch my back. I like having my back scratched." It was easy to feign annoyance when all Draco wanted was to have Harry's hands on him again.

Harry pushed the sheets out of the way. "Like this?" His nails gently grazed over the exposed skin.

"Hmm." Draco sighed. "Perfect."

Harry turned onto his side, bending the arm he rested on so that his fingers could touch Draco's shoulder, occasionally skating over the skin there, while the other hand kept busy on his back, looping around in circles and ellipses.

~*~*~

Draco woke up to golden sunlight of late afternoon and Harry sleeping next to him. The sheets had been tucked around both of them to ward off the slight chill in the room. Harry's hand still rested on Draco's back, a comforting warm weight that only added to Draco's resolve not to move again.

Sleep had smoothed most of the lines on Harry's face, but some remained in the corners of his eyes, testament to a life lived under often-difficult circumstances. Draco decided he was quite fond of those lines. There was also a twinge of guilt for studying the face in front of him so thoroughly when Harry was unaware of it. Although Harry might not object considering that he allowed Draco to see what was going through his mind most of the time anyway.

After he'd committed all possible details to memory, Draco ran his hand up and down Harry's side, amused when Harry twitched in his sleep, apparently trying to get away from the distracting touch. He smiled when sleepy green eyes greeted him at last.

"Had a nice nap?" Draco whispered.

"Yeah. You?"

"Excellent, especially because I hadn't planned on falling asleep."

Harry rolled onto his back, pulling Draco with him. "You struggled a bit. Dozed off, then shook yourself awake, that sort of thing." It was obvious that he'd rather enjoyed having been witness to that.

Draco propped himself up on one arm, elbow next to Harry's head. "I supposed your superior back-scratching skills are the reason for the unexpected napping."

"I'd say so." Harry raked his nails down Draco's back for emphasis.

"You—you're very good at this."

Harry grinned and locked his arms across the small of Draco's back. "Always at your service."

Draco's fingers wound into Harry's hair, pushing it away from his face. His eyes fell on the scar, still as visible as ever. He traced over it with his thumb and felt Harry shiver underneath him. "Hasn't really faded, has it?"

Harry's throat worked. "No."

"Were you hoping it would?"

"I don't know. Maybe, yeah." In a much lower voice, Harry added, "Can we please not talk about this?"

Draco allowed the tousled strands to fall back into place. He kept stroking over Harry's hair.

Harry's eyes darted around the room before slowly returning to Draco. "I don't like to remember it's there, now that I can actually sort of forget about it."

Draco doubted Harry could ever really forget the scar and all that it stood for, but he certainly understood the sentiment. He nodded and leaned down for a kiss, which turned slow and languid, and only ended when Draco's stomach rumbled loudly.

"Sorry," Draco mumbled against Harry's cheek.

"No apologies necessary. I could do with some food myself."

"Want to raid the kitchen?"

"Actually, would you like to go out to eat? There's a pub that's quite nice."

Draco weighed the potential of a third dinner featuring stew against the usual pub fare. The latter sounded most enticing in comparison. "Okay."

Harry looked very pleased. "You won't regret it. The food's really good."

"Don't make such promises, or I might have expectations."

Harry grinned. "I bet the food holds up to any expectation you might have."

"You know, the offer you made earlier would make a good wager..."

Harry's hands slid lower and squeezed. "It would."

"So, we're on?"

"We're on."

~*~*~

The King's Head was a whitewashed stone building situated directly next to the road leading out of Ravenstonedale. It was pleasant enough from the outside, Draco thought as he climbed out of Margaret's car. Harry had insisted on driving yet again, arguing that the locals knew him and would think it odd if he seemingly arrived on foot.

"This looks nice," Draco commented, looking though the window at tables with intricately folded napkins and more than one set of knives and forks next to each plate.

"Um, that's the restaurant. I thought we'd eat at the pub."

"Why?"

"Well, it's a bit...fancy. The pub's more relaxed." From the look on Harry's face, it was obvious that he had a slightly less kind term in mind for the restaurant and was holding it back for Draco's benefit.

Draco had to admit that dinner in the restaurant might end up being on the formal side, and perhaps even make Harry uncomfortable. And he'd rather have Harry smiling at him during dinner while he tried to get his hand on Harry's knee. "Okay."

Harry looked surprised. "You really don't mind?"

"No. Do you think they might serve the restaurant menu in the pub?"

"Can't see why they wouldn't." Harry held the door open for Draco.

The pub looked as one might have expected—dark wood and an exceedingly ugly carpet with red and purple flowers.

The woman behind the bar nodded at Harry in greeting. "Long time no see."

"Hi, Susan. Been busy," Harry replied.

"Lambing time's started, hasn't it?"

"My first one was born yesterday," Harry confirmed.

"I've heard that a lot this week. Seems as if everyone needs a stiff drink after the first one. Getting back into the routine and all that."

Harry and Susan shared a laugh. Draco cleared his throat.

"Oh, look at me chatting away," she said apologetically in Draco's direction. "What can I get for you?"

Feeling adventurous, Draco decided against the usual white wine he ordered when Hermione dragged him along for an evening with her friends. "Whatever Harry has."

"Well, that would be two pints of Black Sheep, then," Harry said. "Ale," he clarified to Draco.

While Draco wasn't exactly a fan of ale, he'd survive. The more pressing question concerned the food. The board behind the bar had a list of about five dishes, none if which particularly appealed to Draco. Sending Susan his most charming smile, he asked, "If it isn't too much trouble, would it be possible for Harry and me to order off the restaurant menu?"

Harry hastily interjected, "Draco's here on holiday and quite set on making his way through as many local specialties as possible."

Susan nodded. "Let me ask Stephen, but I'm sure it won't be a problem."

"Thank you, that's very kind of you." Draco smiled again for good measure.

Harry paid for their pints and they sat down at a table in the far corner, next to the fireplace. Sipping his ale, Draco surveyed the pub, which wasn't too crowded yet given that it was barely six o'clock. Harry seemed to be caught up in his own thoughts, staring into the middle distance. Draco conceded it was comfortable to share silences with Harry, something he could become used to.

Before long, Susan waved in their direction, and Draco walked over to the bar and picked up two menus. Harry barely glanced at it.

"I always have the turkey and ham pie," he explained.

"You don't fancy branching out a bit?

"Nah. I've tried a few other things here, but the pie's outstanding."

"Hmm." Draco turned his attention back to the menu. The Lamb Henry looked rather enticing— _Lamb Joint cooked slowly and served with Minted Gravy_\--but he could imagine that Harry might not be too pleased with that choice. "I think I'll have the salmon."

"Good choice. Shall I go and order?" Harry gathered up the menus.

"Please."

Draco rather enjoyed the view of Harry's arse when he bent over the bar to talk to Susan, and could barely contain a leer when Harry was on his way back. Draco was just about to whisper something entirely inappropriate to him when someone called out Harry's name.

Turning around in his chair, Harry greeted the middle-aged man who was approaching their table with a wave. "Hi, Malcolm. I'm surprised to see you here. Lambing hasn't swallowed you whole yet?"

"Not quite. Calm before the storm and all that."

Malcolm sat his pint down on their table and seemed to be scanning the room for a free chair. "I ran into Margaret this morning and she mentioned one of your ewes had quite a bit of trouble with lambing."

"Yeah, it was a close call for a while, but I had some help." Harry smiled fondly at Draco.

Having found a chair, Malcolm dragged it over and sat down. "You're in the farming business as well?"

Draco nearly snorted ale through his nose. "Far from it. I'm only here on holiday. Harry's an... old friend."

Malcolm chuckled. "And you were roped into helping with the sheep."

"Harry needed help, so I helped," Draco replied firmly.

"Good friend you have there, Harry." Malcolm didn't seem to notice the faint blush that stole over Harry's cheeks.

"So, you're mixing sugar beet into the feed again this year?" Harry asked with an apologetic shrug at Draco.

"Yes, sugar beet and then also distillers grain..."

Draco tuned out the rest of the conversation, watching the fire instead. Sooner than expected, his ears picked up something of interest again.

"...about bumfit, I reckon," Malcolm mused. "Dick for you when all is said and done?"

Draco choked on his ale, which left him gasping for air. A nasty coughing fit followed and Harry patted him on the back until his breathing evened out again. Malcolm gave him a curious look. "Wrong pipe," Draco wheezed.

"Um, Malcolm was asking about how many lambs I'm expecting this season." The tips of Harry's ears had gone bright red.

Malcolm's face lit up in realisation. He turned to Draco. "Ah, I should have known you wouldn't be familiar with how we count sheep around here. It's a bit old-fashioned by now, I suppose, but my father taught me, and, well, it's nice to uphold tradition, isn't it? Bumfit's another way of saying fifteen, and dick stands for...?" He looked at Harry.

"Er, ten."

"That's right!" Malcolm sounded very pleased. "I've been teaching Harry."

Draco suppressed the laughter bubbling up in him. "Harry has always been a fast learner where certain things are concerned."

"That he has." Malcolm nodded sagely.

"I think our food should be here any minute now, don't you think?" Harry said to no one in particular, eyes focused on his pint.

"And I should be on my way. The ewes wait for no man, after all." Malcolm stood up. With a nod to Draco, he said, "I hope you'll enjoy the rest of your time here."

"Thank you. Good luck with the...ewes." The word felt strange in Draco's mouth, but Harry's look of pride made up for it.

When Malcolm was out of hearing range, Harry pushed his chair closer. "Sorry about that." He glanced around, then snuck an arm around Draco's waist. "I swear I won't say the word sheep again tonight."

Draco longed to lean against Harry, but didn't want to draw any attention to them. "Bloody sheep."

Harry sighed. "I know, but they're the livelihood of many people here, so they're always a topic of conversation."

"And what interesting conversations they can lead to. Fit bums and all."

"The word's bumfit, Draco."

"Oh, details."

With considerable discretion, Harry untucked Draco's shirt and slipped his fingers underneath, scratching lightly across the skin there. "I think we should have a very thorough discussion on that subject matter later."

Draco tried not to squirm in his chair. Or at least not too much. "Hmm, I'll hold you to that."

~*~*~

Harry had been right about the food—it had indeed been excellent. The salmon had practically fallen apart at the slightest touch of Draco's fork, and Harry's pie had been very good as well, if the two bites Draco had stolen off of his plate had been any indication.

Now the landscape was flying past the car window, taking Draco's thoughts with it and tossing them here and there, without dwelling on anything for too long. It would be nice to come back to Harry's rooms, stretch out on that comfortable-looking sofa of his and...well. If Draco was honest with himself, he'd be perfectly content to simply have Harry nearby, close enough for a snog or another round of back-scratching. Of course if idle fingers wandered lower, he wouldn't object to that, either. He was very much looking forward to finally following up on Harry's offer, which still stood, won bet or not. The looks Harry had been sending him over dinner had said as much. But that would have to wait until later; at the moment, Draco felt too pleasantly drowsy to get up to such exertions.

"Something on your mind?" Harry sounded amused.

"Not really."

"You keep making these noises."

"I think the ale went to your head."

"No, no, I'm quite sure. They're little...grunts. Or...I don't know, happy noises."

Draco stared at Harry, cheeks heating up. He was very glad that it was nearly completely dark in the car. "That's—that's preposterous."

Harry laughed. "Okay. If you say so. I liked hearing them, in any case."

Draco crossed his arms and went back to looking out the window, determined to not think of anything at all.

"So, what were you thinking about?"

"Nothing important."

Harry's silence was one of those non-responses that only underlined his previous question.

"Oh, fine." Draco huffed. "I was thinking about your sofa."

"My sofa?"

"Yes." Draco paused. "With us on it."

Harry grinned. "Well, keep thinking about that, and when we're actually on that sofa, you can tell me in detail what you've come up with." Quickly glancing at Draco, Harry added, "I liked how you said 'us'."

Warmth suffused Draco, and he didn't know what to say in return. But maybe he didn't have to say anything. He hadn't even thought about using that word, but now that Harry had called attention to it, it echoed in his mind. Us. It evoked a sense of togetherness that Draco wanted to hold on to, but that also felt elusive. Brittle. It only reminded him that his holiday was past the halfway point, and he wasn't at all sure what would happen to that "us" afterwards.

"Okay, now you're making noises that shouldn't go with us on a sofa," Harry observed as they were pulling up in front of The Fat Lamb.

"Sorry," Draco mumbled.

They made their way to the front door in silence. Draco's hand was already on the handle when Harry's folded over his, stopping him from opening the door.

"You're not having second thoughts about—about the sofa, are you?" His brows knit together.

Draco felt torn between wanting to slap him for the stupidity of the question and feeling relief at Harry having a few worries of his own as far as their—well, whatever this was—was concerned.

"No second thoughts." For emphasis, he held on to Harry's hand as he opened the door and led them through the house.

Chatter and laughter floated towards them from the dining room and lounge as they hurried past to the stairs that led to Harry's rooms. They were halfway up the stairs when Harry slowed down, tugging Draco closer as they reached the landing.

"Something was bothering you in the car," Harry pressed.

Draco shrugged. He really didn't want to have this conversation now. With a touch to his cheek, Harry coaxed Draco to look at him and his damnably thorough gaze.

"It wasn't important," Draco said as firmly as he could manage.

"Okay." Harry's thumb skimmed along Draco's jaw. "I want you to know that I don't have any regrets about what we've done. Or about what we might do." A grin tried to break through the serious facade.

The words seemed to come so easily to Harry, almost as if he didn't see or consider their implication. Draco wished he could offer an eloquent and equally reassuring response, but his mind failed him. He did the only thing he could think of—he pulled Harry into a kiss.

~*~*~

Waking up to Harry kissing his neck was one of the best ways to greet a new day, Draco decided. Perhaps even _the_ best. He sighed and shifted to expose more skin for exploration, revelling in the feeling of Harry's body aligning with his own.

"Good morning." Even without opening his eyes, Draco could hear that Harry was smiling.

"Hmm."

"What, not capable of proper speech yet?"

"No." The word dissolved into a yawn.

"Still recovering from last night?" Now Harry definitely had a grin on his face.

"You were quite demanding."

"Oh, was I?" Harry's fingers danced across Draco's hip. "I remember you being quite demanding yourself."

Draco made a non-committal noise. He wiggled back against Harry, trying to dislodge those teasing fingers and get them to move a little further down. A soft chuckle broke against his ear, but Harry obediently moved his hand; it closed around Draco's hardening cock with a loose grasp.

"Merlin, yes."

"And here I thought I might have worn you out so thoroughly this wouldn't be possible right now."

"I'm al-always up for—mmmm—for another round—"

Harry kissed his nape. "I can see that. But what about the new sheets?" His hand tightened around Draco.

"Fuck—fuck the sheets."

"I don't think so."

Draco's eyes flew open and he let out a high-pitched whine when Harry let go of his cock. "Don't stop!"

Harry chuckled and pushed Draco onto his back. "Patience, dear."

Draco swatted his shoulder. "Don't call me that." His treacherous legs fell open when Harry made a move to slide between them.

Eyes sparkling with mischief, Harry said, "I think I know a way to save the sheets."

Before Draco had time to say "You'd better", Harry was already diving under the sheets, placing open-mouthed kisses on his chest and belly. Realising what would follow, Draco hastily kicked away the duvet so Harry wouldn't suffocate. Just in time, as it turned out, because his muscles turned into jelly the moment Harry's lips closed around his cock.

"Fuck, yes."

Harry teased him with a few well-placed licks before settling into a steady rhythm. Draco drew quick, sharp breaths, well-aware that he'd come in an embarrassingly short time, but Harry seemed to know exactly how and where to use the most pressure, not to mention the way his arms were curled around Draco's thighs so that his fingertips could trail along the soft skin there. Trying to hold back for as long as possible, disregarding all the needy sounds that flowed past his lips, Draco finally let go and pushed into Harry's mouth, which never stopped working until he fell back against the mattress.

Harry crawled up Draco's body, tongue darting around his lips. "I think my plan worked rather well, wouldn't you say?"

Draco only had the energy to nod and fling his arms around Harry's back, pulling him close.

Expression turning serious, Harry continued, "I'm afraid I have to get up now. Take a look at what the sheep have been up to."

Draco swallowed a petulant sigh. "Come back soon?"

"As soon as I can."

"You don't want any help with this?" Draco pushed up against his hips.

Harry laughed and winked. "No, thanks, my morning wank is sacred." He leaned down to kiss and nuzzle Draco's cheek. "Be good while I'm gone."

"I'll be asleep while you're gone."

"That's just as well." With a final chaste kiss to Draco's lips, Harry disentangled himself and got up.

Draco drew the duvet tight around himself, imagining that they still had some of Harry's warmth in them. He fell asleep to the sound of the shower running in the bathroom.

~*~*~

Sharp knocking to the bedroom door startled Draco out of his dozing. "'m not getting up, you lazy arse!"

A moment of silence, then Margaret's hesitant voice called out, "Mr Malfoy?"

Draco groaned into the pillow.

"Mr Malfoy, I have Ms Granger on the phone, she says it's quite urgent..."

Oh, fuck. Hermione would never contact him unless it was a dire emergency. About ten different scenarios ran through his mind, each worse than the previous one. He stumbled out of bed, looking for his clothes. Right, those were in the living room.

"One moment!"

A quick look around revealed that Harry didn't own a bathrobe—that would have to change—so Draco rummaged through a drawer to find a clean t-shirt and jogging bottoms, both of which were a little too big for him.

Hoping that he looked somewhat presentable, Draco took a deep breath, then opened the door. "Yes?"

Margaret held the phone out to him, a smile twitching in the corners of her mouth. "It's Ms Granger. You can return the phone when you're done. I'll be in the kitchen."

"Thank you." Draco briefly wondered if it was possible that there wasn't a single Floo connection in the house. "Hermione, what in Merlin's name is going on?"

"I'm so sorry to interrupt your holiday, but—"

"Yes, yes, just tell me—"

"Well, you know that the Carmichael presentation was yesterday..."

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. They'd been preparing that meeting for a month. "Yes."

"It didn't go quite as well as planned."

That could only mean one thing. "Please don't tell me there's still a problem with the dried Niffler snouts."

"I'm afraid so."

"Argh! Tell me exactly why—no, wait. I'm coming back."

"Draco, you don't need to—"

"Oh yes, I think I do. I'm not letting this get more out of hand than it already is. Expect me in an hour." He'd just have enough time to pack, Portkey back to his flat, change into his work robes and Floo to the Ministry.

"But—"

Draco pressed random buttons until Hermione's protesting voice died. He stormed into Harry's living room, dressed hastily, then took two steps at a time as he rushed down the stairs.

"You might want to invest in a Floo connection," he told Margaret when he threw the phone onto the kitchen table.

"We do have a connection, but it's only active during Wizarding week," she replied, sounding slightly miffed. "It wouldn't do to have a random floating head in the fireplace, would it?"

Draco ignored her explanation. "I have to leave. Will the Portkey work from my room?"

Margaret shook her head. "It's location-specific. I'll get the car."

"Thank you." Draco turned on his heel and was almost in the hall when Margaret's voice stopped him.

"You don't want to say good-bye to Harry?"

Draco's fists clenched. "I'll owl him later."

The thought of Harry shifted his annoyance into anger. He'd looked forward to spending what precious little time remained of his holiday with Harry, hoping that by the end of the week they would have built the beginning of something that might...last. A niggling voice told him that he should talk to Harry before he left, but Draco resolutely ignored it as he slammed the door to his room shut behind him. He'd owl Harry after taking care of this crisis.

Pointing his wand at the chest of drawers in the corner, he watched as his knickers neatly folded themselves into his bag, followed by the remaining clothes. Ignoring the note popping up next to his head, he Accio-ed his toiletries from the bathroom, then threw on his coat. Scanning the room one last time to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything, he hurried towards the entrance hall.

Margaret met him by the door, umbrella in hand. It was raining cats and dogs outside, which Draco found entirely appropriate for his mood. As they reached the car, Margaret sighed dramatically.

"Oh, silly me, I forgot my handbag. I'll just be a moment." She pushed the umbrella into Draco's hand and ran back to the house.

Not at all pleased to be left standing in this downpour, Draco shoved his free hand into a coat pocket. It was bloody cold outside. She could have at least unlocked the car. Was that really too much to ask? Draco kicked at a stone and watched with considerable satisfaction as it bounced off the passenger door.

Hasty footsteps on the gravel made him look around. His fingers tightened around the umbrella handle when he saw that it was Harry.

"Margaret said you were leaving." Harry was out of breath, probably due to running all the way here from the pasture. Water dripped from his soaked strands, running down his flushed cheeks in little rivulets.

Silently cursing Margaret and her meddling ways, Draco struggled to keep his voice even. "I'm going back to London, yes. There's utter chaos at the office."

"And you didn't think I might want to know?" Harry's voice cracked, and Draco couldn't tell if it was from anger or sadness or perhaps a bit of both.

Draco averted his eyes. "I would have owled you."

Harry took a step closer. "Really? Are you absolutely sure of that?"

"Yes." Draco shot him a defiant glare.

"Why?"

Confused, Draco asked, "Why am I sure?"

"Yes. Tell me."

Draco's heart raced. Harry was standing so close to him now, asking something that was impossibly difficult to answer. Or perhaps only to answer out loud. "Because I—I want..."

Harry's hands wound into Draco's open coat, coming to rest on his hips. "You want?"

The words were lodged in Draco's throat. His voice trembled under the strain of pressing them out of his mouth. "I want you. Us. For longer than just a week, or a month, or—"

Harry cut him off with a kiss. Unable to hold on to the umbrella any longer, Draco dropped it to the ground, wrapping both of his arms around Harry's neck and holding on to him as if his life depended on it. Raindrops stained their lips, making them slippery as they slid against each other, but Draco didn't care because Harry's tongue was doing marvelous things that made him shudder. He distantly noticed the cold seeping in through his wet clothes, a sharp contrast to the heat trapped between their bodies.

At last Harry pulled away. "Will you come back next weekend?" His hands gently pushed away the hair that was sticking to Draco's face.

"Yes." It was barely a whisper, but Harry's wide smile indicated he'd understood.

Draco's plan to steal another kiss from Harry was foiled by a loud throat-clearing behind them.

"Ready to go, Mr Malfoy?" Margaret grinned at both of them from underneath a newspaper she was holding above her head.

"Just about," Draco replied. He relaxed against Harry and closed his eyes, collecting a few last impressions of how their bodies fit together.

Harry burrowed into his neck. "I'll miss you."

"It's only six days."

"Still."

Draco pushed his hand into Harry's hair, needing to feel it between his fingers one more time. "Yeah. I know."

They slowly let go of one another, clasping their hands together for a brief moment before stepping apart. Margaret was already in the car, and Draco followed quickly, suddenly desperate to leave because Harry's sad smile tugged sharply at his heart. He waved at him through the window, looking over his shoulder until the curtain of rain obscured his view.

Draco settled into the seat, eyes on the now familiar stone walls, cluster of trees, and frequent flocks of sheep. Yes, he might very well get used to this.

 

The end.

 

Feedback is welcome and appreciated!

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**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Sheep Whisperer](https://archiveofourown.org/works/285928) by [RurouniHime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RurouniHime/pseuds/RurouniHime)




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